


Slowly, Slowly, Into the Light

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aren’t you supposed to be in class, too?” Ginny asks.</p><p>Luna makes a noncommittal sound and says, “Probably. But I took the day off.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I took the day off to find nargles,” Luna says. “They’re easiest to find on Thursdays.”</p><p>(or, the one where Luna saves Ginny from Tom Riddle's diary after a chance collision in the halls.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly, Slowly, Into the Light

**Author's Note:**

> With massive thanks to amidtheflowers, without whom this would have never seen the light of day (and probably wouldn't have existed at all).

The first few months at Hogwarts, Ginny is sure that she’ll never get anything right. The staircases always move when she needs them not to; her red hair marks her as a _Weasley_ , something she’d been told to expect but which hurts nonetheless. She’s plagued by headaches and stomachaches and cramps at all hours. She can hardly sleep for them, and her grades suffer for it.

Her reticence in class is noticed by the professors, notably Professor McGonagall, but no one talks to her about it except Fred and George. They’re wondering where their sister went, the girl who could go on and on about Quidditch and who was so excited to get a wand and who dreamed of Hogwarts.

Ginny doesn’t know where she went. Most days, she doesn’t even feel like herself.

Her diary tells her it’s all right, she’s doing fine. No one at Hogwarts is worth bothering with.

She hates herself for wanting to believe the words that emerge from the page.

* * *

It’s the fifth time in two days that Ginny’s found herself in the wrong corridor and late for class—Charms this time, at least it’s not Potions—when the fickle hand of fate decides that Ginny doesn’t have enough on her plate: in her rush to figure out where she is so she can get back, she collides with another student. Books and papers and quills and an inkpot go flying. The inkpot is only barely saved—it floats to the ground upright—but the rest is a mess on the stone floors. Ginny scrambles to pick up the pieces and sees the other person doing the same.

She’s—Ginny has to do a double-take because the girl she collided with is _strange_. She has some peculiar pink glasses on her face that are shaped like butterfly wings, and she’s wearing two radically different earrings, each of which is shaped like a fruit. One is a pear, and the other is a radish.

“Sorry about that,” the girl says. She doesn’t sound sorry. “I was looking for nargles. Have you seen any?”

Ginny doesn’t know what nargles are, but she suspects there aren’t any to be found in the castle. “No,” she says. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s all right,” the girl says. “At least your inkpot didn’t break.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Ginny says. She gathers up the rest of her things. “I’m sorry, I need to get to class.”

The girl looks at her through those glasses and cocks her head. “Are you lost?” she asks.

“Yes,” Ginny says.

The girl smiles. “I can help with that,” she says. She looks at the books in Ginny’s hands. “You’re going to First-Year Charms. I’ll show you the way.”

“Thanks,” Ginny says. The girl walks at a leisurely pace, and it’s easy for Ginny to stay abreast of her with her big pile of books. “I’m Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley.”

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” the girl says.

“What year are you?” Ginny asks to make conversation.

“First,” Luna says.

Ginny starts. She hadn’t expected that. “Oh,” she says.

“Don’t worry. I know how to get to Charms,” Luna says. Her voice has a serene quality to it. It’s soothing, and if Ginny had been paying attention, she would have noticed that her headache had disappeared.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class, too?” Ginny asks.

Luna makes a noncommittal sound and says, “Probably. But I took the day off.”

“What?”

“I took the day off to find nargles,” Luna says. “They’re easiest to find on Thursdays.”

Ginny still doesn’t know what a nargle is, but she’s a little concerned that Luna has no idea where she’s going. Still, she follows, and in a few minutes’ time, she’s at the door to the Charms room.

“Here we are,” Luna says.

“Thanks again,” Ginny says. She really means it. “The staircases always mess me up.”

“They have a pattern, you know,” Luna says. She sounds serious. “I could teach you, if you like.”

Ginny doubts that, but she says, “Yeah, I would. I have to go, but—”

“Go on,” Luna says. “I’m sure we’ll come across each other again.”

Ginny opens the door and is berated for being late, but Luna waves at her, and she doesn’t feel so bad about it.

In this way, Ginny meets Luna Lovegood. It’s only later that evening that she realizes that Luna is the first person not to ask if she’s a Weasley, or to make some comment about her family or her robes. It’s refreshing.

(Her headache comes back not fifteen minutes after Luna leaves.)

* * *

There are a few weeks where Ginny doesn’t see Luna at all. Gryffindor and Slytherin share classes, and Luna’s in Ravenclaw—or, at least, she’d been wearing a blue tie, and Ginny hasn’t seen her. She’s probably there in the Great Hall, but Ginny doesn’t see her.

She’s most certainly _not_ looking for her. Of course not. She’s not lonely and in terrible need of a friend. Nope.

When she does find her again, Luna’s crying.

It’s an ugly sight. Her face—almost as pale as Ginny’s, and that’s saying something—is splotchy and red. Her eyes are shut and she rubs them and she’s sobbing and hiccuping and Ginny has never in her entire life seen anything more pathetic.

Around her stands a group of students. They’re not first-years from the looks of them, but Ginny doesn’t know who they are. She spots a Gryffindor and a Slytherin and two Hufflepuffs, and her temper flares. They’ve made Luna cry. Luna, who helped her get to class. Luna, who was kind to her.

Ginny’s never been one to forget a kindness.

As she comes closer, she hears the taunts— _Loony Lovegood_ , they call her. _Crazy Loony Lovegood. Here to make up more stories? Ha, she can’t even see straight—look at her—_

“That’s _enough_!” Ginny yells. (It’s more of a scream, but she’s so livid she can’t see straight, either.)

The group startles, turns to look at her.

“A Weasley?” the Slytherin asks. “Figures you’d associate with _Loony_ over here.”

Ginny feels fit to burst. Her wand has never felt better in her palm.

“Her name,” she spits, “is Luna.”

“Sure it is,” one of the Hufflepuffs says, “but she’s a loon, so she’s Loony.”

Ginny fires off the hex before she can think about it. It’s a nasty one—something about frogs; Ginny’s never cast it but she’s read about it—and it hits the Hufflepuff squarely in the face.

“What the— You’ll pay for that!” the other Hufflepuff snaps. She fires off a curse that Ginny only barely ducks, and Ginny fires back. Pretty soon it’s three wands—that one Hufflepuff is down and vomiting frogs—against one. Ginny’s outmatched, but she’s _furious_.

She holds her own for quite some time, then something hits her in the arm, and she screams and goes down.

* * *

When Ginny wakes, it’s to the ceiling of the infirmary and to the complete lack of feeling in her arm. She wiggles and tries to sit up, but her arm is stuck in place.

“Better not move that,” an oddly calm voice says, “you’ll mess up the bones.”

Ginny blinks until she can see clearly. Luna sits at her bedside, her hands folded in her lap. She’d been reading, Ginny sees; there’s a stack of books on the little table by her bed.

“What happened?” Ginny asks. Her voice is raspy, hardly hers. She feels like she needs to drink an entire lake to quench her thirst.

Luna smiles. “Baldric tried to stun you and broke all of the bones in your arm,” she says. “You hit him with _obscuro_ and he got the incantation wrong.”

“Oh,” Ginny says. She doesn’t try to sit up again. “Which one’s Baldric?”

“That one,” Luna says, pointing across the room.

“I can’t see.”

“The Gryffindor,” Luna clarifies. “The others are here, too. Caellach—the Hufflepuff you hit first—left about an hour ago, though.”

“Is he all right?” Ginny asks, tentative.

“He’s fine,” Luna says. “The frogs stopped a while ago. I wanted to keep one, but Madame Pomfrey said it was a bad idea.”

Ginny laughs a little at that. “Sorry,” she says.

“Why?”

“That you didn’t get a frog.”

“Oh, I’ll find one,” Luna says. “There are plenty out on the grounds. Hagrid knows where they all are.”

Ginny knows of Hagrid, though she’s never interacted with him before. He’s far too large for her to feel comfortable in his presence, never mind what people say about him.

“Thanks, by the way,” Luna says, almost as an afterthought.

“For what?”

“You were defending me,” Luna says. Ginny turns to look at her; Luna’s staring at her lap. “People don’t do that.”

Luna looks so despondent sitting there that Ginny’s tempted to say _damn the bones_ and reach over there to comfort her.

In the end, Ginny settles for saying, “I don’t think you’re loony, Luna. As soon as I get out of here, you’re going to teach me how the stairs move, and we’ll catch frogs and nargles.”

Luna finally looks up. Her eyes sparkle in the light from the windows. “You believe in them, too?”

Ginny thinks she’ll be willing to say she believes in anything to keep Luna from crying like that again.

* * *

It’s another two weeks of on-again-off-again headaches and consistent writing in her diary before Luna mentions it.

“Ginny,” she says seriously as they stride across the lawn in a rare shared free period. (Ginny thinks that Luna might be cutting class again, but if Luna doesn’t say anything, Ginny’s not going to say anything, either.) “What’s that book you’ve always got with you?”

“Oh, this?” Ginny asks. The diary’s well worn, but it feels foreign in her fingers as she walks beside Luna, as if it’s shrinking away from her touch. “It’s my diary.”

_Don’t tell her_.

The voice in Ginny’s head isn’t her own. Her head throbs just for a moment, and she comes to a stop.

“Sorry,” Ginny says. “Headache.”

Luna stops and frowns at her. “Give it here,” she says.

“What?”

“Ginny Weasley, you give me that book right now,” Luna demands.

_Don’t do it_.

“Why?” Ginny asks. She feels panic rising in her throat. What’s happening? Why is Luna doing this?

“Because I think there’s something wrong with it,” Luna says. “Please?”

_DON’T DO IT_.

Ginny spins on her heel and runs.

* * *

Her headaches get worse over time, and then the petrifications start.

_They deserve it_ , the diary—Tom, its name is Tom—tells her. Ginny’s sick at the thought. _Hogwarts is infested. This plague will make it better. Don’t you want everything to be better?_

Ginny does want it to be better, but lately, she can’t seem to find anything good at all. She lays in bed, barely eats, and hardly goes to class.

The days tick by. Winter sets in, hard and deep.

* * *

When Luna comes by, it’s well after curfew.

Ginny’s not entirely sure how she gets in, but suddenly she’s there, her finger pressed to her lips. Ginny all but screams.

“Come on,” Luna says.

Ginny slips on her robe. The floor is cold beneath her feet—she doesn’t have slippers—and when Ginny grabs her diary, the only constant in her life now, Luna doesn’t say anything.

Luna takes her out through the common room door and the Fat Lady waves as they leave.

“Don’t worry,” Luna says. “I’ve talked to the portraits. Filch won’t know.”

“Won’t know what?” Ginny asks.

“That we’re out of bed,” Luna says, as if it’s obvious.

In retrospect, it rather is. Luna takes her to a stairwell and carefully times it so that they go precisely where they need to. All along, the portraits nod, murmuring greetings. The voice in Ginny’s head tells her to go back to her nice, warm bed, to get away from Luna, but she doesn’t think she can make it past the stairs and Luna’s walking with determination. If she stays with Luna, she’ll avoid Filch and won’t get in trouble for…whatever this is.

Ginny keeps walking.

They seem to go down forever, and it takes Ginny all of too long to realize that they’re headed for the lower levels, the ones that are largely underground. They’re approaching an unfamiliar hallway when a figure steps out to meet them.

Ginny doesn’t know her, but she’s seen her around: she’s one of the Slytherin prefects.

“I could lose my position for this,” the girl says as she steps into the light. Luna doesn’t seem phased. The girl looks to Ginny. “Is this the one?” Luna nods.

“The one what?” Ginny asks, taking a step back.

The prefect has her wand out before Ginny can reach for hers.

“ _Stupefy_ ,” the prefect says, and Ginny goes perfectly stiff.

The diary is taken from her hands. She tries to scream, but her vocal chords are frozen. They can’t take it, they’ll know, she’ll have to share Tom with someone else—

“Definitely a Dark artifact,” the prefect says. “Nasty piece of work. How long has she had it?”

“I don’t know,” Luna says. “I tried to get it from her, but…”

“There’s something strange about it,” the prefect says. “I’ll take it from here.”

Luna catches her arm. “You promised,” she says.

“Luna…” the prefect murmurs. “Fine. We’ll go together. It’ll be harder dodging Filch, though.” Luna shrugs. Ginny still can’t move, and her entire body aches with the need to take the diary back. “Plus, with everything that’s been happening…”

“We’re going,” Luna says. “I talked to the portraits.”

The prefect sighs. “Can you carry this?” she asks, handing the diary to Luna.

She shakes her head. “Protection against Dark magic,” Luna says. “I can’t touch it.”

The prefect’s shoulders slump. “Great,” she mutters. She stoops to pick up Ginny, whose legs refuse to bend because of the petrification, and hoists her up. Ginny struggles to reach for the diary; it’s _so close_ and calling to her.

Words whisper in her mind. They’re not English, nor any other language she’s ever heard. It sounds like snakes, and she tries to wriggle and writhe to escape, but her body doesn’t move.

Luna follows the prefect through the corridors. They move quickly, stopping often for what seemed to be timed periods before moving on. They head slowly but surely back from whence they came, toward Gryffindor Tower. Ginny can’t turn her head, but she knows when they head away from the Common Room and toward…

The door opens before they’ve even reached to knock Professor McGonagall, dressed in a sleeping cap and gown, stands on the threshold, aghast.

* * *

“You’d better have good explanations, both of you,” McGonagall says once they’re all inside. Ginny, still petrified, gathers that the portraits notified McGonagall that they were on their way. With a wave of her wand, McGonagall releases the curse on Ginny.

Immediately, Ginny scrambles to her feet and lunges at the prefect.

“Ms. Weasley, calm yourself _immediately,_ ” McGonagall orders. Ginny can’t comply. She hurls herself again at the prefect, and McGonagall bodily pushes her down into a chair. “Kitchener, I hope you have an explanation as to why Ms. Weasley is in such a state and why not one but _two_ first-year students were roaming the halls with you.”

“Technically Ginny only roamed with me,” Luna offers. “She was Petrified after that.”

McGonagall fixes her with a stare, but Luna is unshakable.

“It’s because of this,” the prefect, Kitchener, says, holding out the diary. “Luna here told me about it. She wasn’t sure if Ginny was cursed or if the diary was, so she brought me both to check.”

McGonagall looks between the three girls. Ginny struggles against her, but McGonagall holds firm. At the sight of the diary, she recoils as if struck, then turns to one of the portraits.

“Wake Albus,” she says.

* * *

When Albus arrives a few minutes later, Ginny has calmed somewhat. Luna’s been holding her hand and apologizing and promising that it’s going to be over soon, but Ginny still feels as if she’s about to cry.

The biscuits have helped, too. She’s eaten far too many of them while McGonagall and Kitchener stand and wait, the diary sitting across the room on a table.

“Minerva,” Albus greets as he’s allowed inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late-night call?”

“Albus,” McGonagall says. “Look at this.”

Albus frowns as he holds the diary. “Oh,” he says. Ginny’s vision swims.

* * *

When she wakes again, it’s to the ceiling of the infirmary—again. At least her arm isn’t in a sling.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Ginny recognizes that voice.

“We never properly met,” Kitchener says from her spot beside Ginny’s bed. “I’m Laura, one of the Slytherin prefects, seventh-year.”

“Where’s Luna?” Ginny demands. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Laura says. “That diary of yours was some kind of Dark artifact—something really bad. Have you been having headaches?”

“Have I—yes,” Ginny says.

Laura says, “Dumbledore says that the diary might have been affecting you, making you feel sad and bad and stuff. Luna and I have been visiting whenever we can.” 

“How long have I been out?” Ginny asks, horrified.

Laura’s face says it all.

* * *

Ron comes by with Harry Potter, as do Fred and George and Percy. Ron tells Ginny the news—Hermione’s been petrified, and not by a curse. Madame Pomfrey doesn’t know how to reverse it. Ginny tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut.

Only when Luna comes does Ginny finally break down and cry.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry…”

Ginny sobs and Luna holds her.

“It’s all right,” Luna says. “That book had something bad in it. I could tell. I’m sorry it happened the way it did, though.” She actually does sound sorry, too, and that sets Ginny into another wave of tears. “It’ll be all right,” Luna says.

Ginny allows herself to believe her until word gets around that Laura Kitchener has disappeared.

* * *

Hagrid and Dumbledore disappear from the school grounds. No one has been told about the diary other than the professors, who perhaps stare a little too long. Ginny’s work improves, though the problem of Laura plagues her mind. Luna sticks by her side. Hogwarts goes quiet.

Then someone writes _her body will lie in the Chamber forever_ , the note in Hermione’s hand is uncovered, and Professor Lockhart says he’ll go to the Chamber of Secrets himself and see if there is indeed a basilisk on the prowl. Ginny learns all of this because lately gossip flies faster than a Nimbus 2000, and she’s learned to keep her ears open. She has no doubt that it’s Laura who’s down there—Laura, who helped her.

Ginny feels responsible. After learning of Lockhart’s intentions, she quietly decides that she’s going to head him off and take care of matters herself. She’s not sure where to start, but thankfully, she’s not the only one to make such a plan. She collides with Harry and Ron, who have the same sort of idea. Just as she’s getting her bearings, she’s knocked over by none other than Luna Lovegood.

“Oh,” Luna says. “Hello there.”

“What— Ginny, what are you doing?” Ron hisses.

“I’m going to the Chamber of Secrets,” Ginny says. “I’m going to find it and save Laura.”

“I’m following her,” Luna says. “I want to help, too.”

Ginny turns to her. “Luna,” she says, a warning. Luna just interlaces their fingers, and any argument Ginny might have had dies in her throat.

“No,” Ron says. “No way.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Harry says. “We have to get down there.”

“This is my _sister_ —” Ron starts.

“And Laura helped me,” Ginny says. “Let’s _go_.”

* * *

They do go. Lockhart follows them and shows his true colors when he tries to hex Ron with his own wand. The curse backfires, but the spell Ginny fires— _reducto_ , she thinks viciously—certainly helps take him out of the game.

Luna squeezes her hand a little tighter, and Ginny feels giddy in spite of the dismal surroundings.

Unfortunately, now they’re stuck, separated from Harry, with Lockhart, who doesn’t seem to remember anything at all.

* * *

Getting  _into_ the Chamber of Secrets is easy after considering how hard it is to get  _out_ .

By the end, Ginny’s covered with slime she’d rather not identify, and she thinks she might have to hack all of her hair off. But Harry comes back with Laura and an utterly destroyed diary, so it’s worth the very long shower Ginny takes afterward.

Luna waits with Ginny at the infirmary until Laura wakes.

“It’s nice, you know,” Ginny says, “not to be the person staring at the ceiling.”

Laura smiles, then grimaces, grabbing at her head. “How did you do it?” she asks.

“What?”

“How did you carry that thing?” Laura demands. “It whispered to me—I stole it from Dumbledore’s office, I—” She swallows. “It told me things.”

“Dark artifacts are like that,” Luna says, matter of fact, “but you’re back now.”

Laura grins. It’s a weary smile, but it’s there nonetheless. “Thanks,” she says. “I owe you. Again.”

Luna smiles back. Ginny doesn’t know how Laura got so far into Luna’s debt that she was willing to stage a late-night meet up in the first place, but she’s not asking questions. They’re friends. They’ll trust each other from now on.

* * *

Exams are canceled. The weather turns fair, and Luna and Ginny find themselves outside more often than not. Laura joins them, when she feels well enough. The diary had a profound effect on her, and the aftereffects still plague her.

Ginny feels them, too, but less so. She wonders what that says about her.

She wonders less when she finds Luna making daisy chains.

“There’s a Muggle story that begins like this,” Luna tells her. “Right before a girl gets swept into someplace called Wonderland.”

“Really?” Ginny asks. She can’t look away from Luna. She’s— Ginny doesn’t really have the words for how she feels. _Grateful_ and _relieved_ and _happy_ are all up there, but there’s something special about Luna.

“It’s a funny little book. I’ll show it to you sometime,” Luna promises.

“You said that about the stairways,” Ginny jokes.

Luna looks at her seriously. “I didn’t think you really wanted to,” she says, “but we can start now, if you like?”

Ginny takes the daisy chain from Luna’s hands and puts it on Luna’s head.

“You’re the queen,” Ginny says, laughing. “You get to decide.” Luna grins and gets to her feet.

They explore until their feet ache and they laugh until their throats hurt.

Slowly but surely, things get better.


End file.
